Ask me when you’re ready, Dove.
Instead of responding, I sit on his one-word answer for a moment, battling if I want to dig further because I know he won’t give me the answer unless I ask him for it, and I’m not entirely sure I’m ready to hear what he has to say. Not yet. Still, I close my phone with a smile stretching across my face while feeling a sense of disbelief of how well he still knows me. Even more reason to have this conversation with my dad. I’m falling in love with Clinton Morrison—again—and I want to givehim my all.
“Tu quiere flores yo te compro flores.”I sing along to theflores.byDariel Amant in my best voice, off-key and full of love. It’s one of the beautiful things about music in the car—it doesn't matter if you have a good voice or not, and it all sounds good with the windows down. Cool wind whips through my hair as another one of his songs thumps through my speakers. I merge left onto the interstate to the address my dad sent me. As scary as it was to call Papi, even with the worry, I’m finding it difficult to hold back my excitement. I didn’t want to waste time wondering if I was one step away from fucking our second chance up. Allowing myself real teenage crushes wasn't a thing for me. I longed for them but wasn’t willing to waste my time, but now I feel like I should be dancing my feet off on the bleachers and singing love songs.
Dancing in my seat, my eyes snap to the current song title thumping through my speakers, and I exclaim, “Ohhhh hell no!” Laughter falls from my lips, and I have to force my eyes to stay open because I am fucking listening to love songs. I’m belting them out like I’m Gloria Estefan.
A phone notification interrupts the next love song, and I have the car read me the message.
Clint
Checking in, Dove. Have you made it yet?
The consistency of this man is sexy. How does he make stability sexy? I flick my gaze to the GPS before I reply, finding I want to answer truthfully. His care in wanting to know where and how I am reminds me of why I’m falling in love with him.
Paloma
Worried about me?
I’ve only got another eight minutes and then I’ll be at the restaurant Dad sent me.
Clint
Not worried, but you’re always on my mind.
Text me when you get there.
Paloma
I will.
And no running away,I think to myself rather than texting the sentiment. I don’t need the reminder, or maybe I do a little because I feel like he thinks I may just take off and run. I find myself reassuring myself through him.
The restaurant is none other than Maple and Batter. Throwing my head back, I laugh so hard my face and stomach hurt. I wipe my hand across my cheek and rub away the tears from my disbelief and melancholy joy. This is where my love of waffles started. They’ve been an obsession ever since I was a little girl.His little girl.
Paloma
I’m here.
It's Maple & Batter! One of my favorite places. *teary-eyed smile emoji*
I think this is a good thing.
I don't wait for his text of encouragement. Somehow knowing it’s going to be there once my dad and I have this conversation gives me all the warm and fuzzies I need. I spot my dad’s antique pickup truck, and my eyes immediately find him inside, sitting at one of the tiny booths near the window.
He must see me the moment I get inside because he’s standing to his feet before I even make it to the table. We both stand awkwardly for a moment before I choose to sit down, Papi following suit on the opposite bench. I open my mouth to say hello, but a waitress is already approaching the table.
“Good afternoon, you two! My name is April, and I’ll be your go-to girl this morning. What can I getcha?” She smiles at us sweetly, and we both rattle off our order in unison.
“Little bit of this, little bit of that breakfast platter.Extra syrup and strawberry butter please.”
“I’ll get your order right in. Coffee?” We both nod, and she’s on her way.
“That was the quickest service I’ve ever gotten, and I’m kind of in awe of her,” I say without considering I’m not out with the girls for brunch.
“I’m glad to see we still have this in common. This is the original location. The others are all closed, but this one is family owned. I think they have enough support that this place will be open for anothergeneration.” His warm brown eyes match my own, and he has a soft, but uncomfortable, smile on his face. “Hi, mija.”
“Hi, Dad,” I respond, wanting to just get into it and skip the pleasantries. “Mom thought it might be a good idea to talk to you about this issue of mine, but honestly, now that I’m here, I don’t know if I can.”
